


Together Forever

by Krazecat



Category: Hamilton - Miranda, Hamilton - Miranda (Broadway Cast) RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Afterlife, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Ghost John Laurens, Hurt Alexander Hamilton, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Alexander Hamilton/John Laurens, Mental Instability, Minor Alexander Hamilton/John Laurens, Minor Alexander Hamilton/John Laurens/Elizabeth "Eliza" Schuyler, Other, Philip Hamilton Lives, Yandere, Yandere John Laurens, hurt john laurens
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-07
Updated: 2019-01-17
Packaged: 2019-08-20 00:24:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16545221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Krazecat/pseuds/Krazecat
Summary: John Laurens, the definition of a deranged spirit.Angered at his quick death, John devoted his life to watching Alex and his cursed marriage with Eliza.The more he spends his afterlife watching the cheesey couple, the more annoyed and sad he becomes.Wishing that he could just rip their marriage apart, John sees the golden opportunity when the couple have Philip.John could finally give Alex a piece of his mind, he was better than that brat could ever be.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a fanfiction that was inspired by the song "El Tango de Roxanne" from Moulin Rogue.  
> This is an AU where the deranged, angered spirit of John seeks revenge on Alex for choosing Eliza over him.  
> He decides he could use Philip to manipulate and cause this revenge to grow and happen.  
> So practically, he's using Philip for his own good.
> 
>  
> 
> yes, this was also inspired by Crookedstar's Promise  
> specifically, when Mapleshade meets Crooked and when he true actions unveil.

 

Gasping out a shaky breath, John shouted as he was quickly and violently pulled from his body. Taking in big breaths of air, John looked over his shoulder at his dying body. He could see a bullet hole and his body, dear god was his body filled with blood. Closing his eyes, John quickly stepped away, watching as his fellow soldiers fought against the British. One tried to ressurect him feebly but they both knew it was hopeless. John could only stand there and stare at his body, he could faintly see the spirits of other soldiers rising up to the skies, going to where ever their heaven was, but he stayed. Wincing at a sudden pain, John looked down as he saw a gapping hole right under his left rib. It was bleeding but it didn't seem to harm him in anyway, the blood just seemed to pool to the bottom of his feet onto the stained grass. Spitting on the ground, John tried to feel the absent pride for sacrificing his life for his own country, for everybodies freedom, but it didn't seem to come. All he felt was a dull emptiness throughout his body. Bending down and sitting next to his body, John stayed until the infamous battle settled down, he was surrounded by his fellow dead soldiers and the bodies of the very people they were fighting. So many lives lost, John could already see all the crying families when they find out their son, father, uncle, cousin, hell, even grandfather was shot fatally. Licking his lips, John sighed as he laid down and rested his head on the very gun shot wound that killed him. He could feel singular strands of hair falling into the bloodied hole, it wasn't until they took away his body that he forced himself to get up. Now that he was dead, what else would there be to do? Would he fade away over time or be stuck on this hell forever?

John watched as the battle around him continued on with no signs of ending anytime soon, many more soldiers began to fall from both sides. Horses with no handlers ran around free, causing havoc wherever they went. Sure, his body was already taken away, rotting slowly, but that didn't mean the battle had to stop. One insignificant soldier did not mean all battles had to stop, John knew that for a fact. John could still not fathom the fact that he was indeed dead, but the longer he stood there, the more he let the thought sink in. This was how short his life had been, no more Alexander, no more Hercules or Lafayette, and most importantly, no more beer. That was going to be one of the more harder things to adjust to, no beer. Screams of soldiers filled the air every second and died out a few seconds after, sometimes, the gurgling of one's own blood could be heard. Personally, John has grown accustomed to the thought of death and blood, but the amount of blood that was being spilled at the moment was shocking. 

Coughing, John closed his eyes as he tried to figure out where he could go. He heard other spirits around him chat about their heaven or next destination, he overheard one say that his loved ones would always go over this at church. Listening to what he had to say, John flicked the idea off and began walking like there was no tomorrow--all he desired at the moment was to be as isolated as he could ever be. As the night grew cold and a crisp breeze travelled throughout the field, John felt himself grow more weary the more he walked, he didn't think it was possible considering he was dead, but he guessed anything was possible at this point. Raising an eyebrow as he felt his foot get submerged into a liquid, John looked down to see he had reached a speeding river. Rocks lined the shore as fish scrambled to get some hold on the current dragging them along. John wondered if there werre any turtles there. Swallowing, John stepped further into the river, it wasn't like he could die again anyway. He chuckled when he felt the slimy fish rub against his boots, the water made his clothing feel heavy on his body but he didn't mind. He was grateful he could feel anything at this point. John took into detail his still bleeding wound. How long would this bleeding last? This wasn't a permanent scar, was it? Coughing, John spat out some speckles of blood as he saw the world begin to grow dark around him. He didn't know what was happening, but he didn't like the view of it. He could see trees as tall as the eye could see slam through the ground like a needle piercing the skin, moss covered them. The grass beneath his feet began to die and the sky grew an awful dull red color. Was he hallucinating? What was all of this? Many questions began to arouse as John explored the newfound biome. There didn't seem to be too much biodiversity here, the most life that was in this forest were the trees--those alone weren't surviving too well either. 

It felt as if this forest lasted forever the more John walked, he was beginning to grow tired of seeing the same old trees over and over again. The occasional crow could be heard as the clouds above him moved ever so slowly. Groaning, John began to feel annoyance fill his body at the thought of his friends resting up in the afterlife, relaxing and sleeping whilst he was stuck roaming this rugged terrain. He hated it, but John vowed to not let the thought bother him too much. "This is great, I'm stuck walking around God knows where with the most dark things around me. If this is hell, I'm already over it." John declared, expecting somebody to answer until he finally remembered he was in fact dead. Being dead didn't really feel that bad, it almost felt the same as being alive. He had the same clothes on that he died in, same freckles, same teeth, same hair strands, nothing was different except for the newfound wound. John was so tired and sluggish that he even wished his dad would be there with him at the moment. He never went as far as to wishing his dad was with him, never. John continued loosing hope as the same general trees and weeds kept repeating, was this an endless cycle of misery? John asked himself that everyday. Suddenly, the subtle thought and memory of Lafayette, Hercules, and Hamilton filled his head. He had remembered meeting Hamilton at the bar, man was that day the best day he had in a while. John wondered how they were all doing, considering Lafayette nor Hercules greeted him when he died, John assumed they were still alive. Those poor souls.

Growling, John screamed in annoyance as he kicked a dark spruce tree, wincing as he felt pain burst through his foot. "Damn, guess you can still hurt yourself even when your dead." John hissed under his breath as he hopped around on one foot, the brunette proposed that if this was where he was going to spend the rest of his sad life, he should get comfortable. Lodging against one of the closest trees, John huffed a breath of relief as the anxiety peeled itself away from his body. He finally felt at ease, not worrying about some stupid forest seemed to be doing well on him. Blowing a curly lock of hair out of his face, John chuckled as he watched it rise into the air slowly and then settle once more onto his face. "If this is going to be the kind of entertainment for the next thousand of years, I might as well just fade away now." John grumbled, he seemed to be having quite the unusual mood changes today. John just wished he could talk to somebody, guess that was too much to ask for even after death. Leaning his head back against the bark, John blinked as he felt a strange presence near him, growing cautious, John sat up to look around, trying to find whoever was radiating such a strange vibe.

Surprised when he had seen a turtle trudging past him slowly, John watched in amazement as it continued walking, not letting anything bother it or pull it back. Smiling with glee as he watched the turtle, John got up to follow it. He was filled with glee when he had seen more turtles begin to follow suit after the other, sort of like follow the leader. Trotting next to the pack of turtles, John stopped abruptly when one of the turtles suddenly screeched in pain. Squatting down to examine the turtle, John gasped as he saw the head of the poor turtle get flung off. The head flew through the air and clattered against a tree, the sound was sickening when skin hit bark. Screaming when he saw the spine peeking out of the turtle's shoulder area, blood began to spurt out of the gapping hole and the arms and legs flailed around. Rubbing his eyes, John held back tears as he looked at the other turtles, grateful that they were still alive. Maybe this was all just some cruel, sick joke. Was he actually dead? Maybe he was just delusional and in the cuffs of the British. Heaven was never described as a place to fear, more welcome. 

Picking up one of the closer turtles, John got up from his squatted position and held the reptile up high towards the oh-so evident sun. "Buddy, you have to tell me where I am... this can't be hea-" John was cut off when the turtle felt to the ground, pieces of the shell and legs fell to the grass. Screaming, John scrambled away from the corpse and quickly skidded himself up to run away, he didn't know what the hell was going on, all he knew was that he had to get away from this place, and fast. Gasping as his lungs began to plead for air, John didn't stop his running, he was determined to get out of this sick and twisted area. Reaching out towards the open field in front of him, John jumped up into the air and slammed himself into the ground, feeling the force of his fall more than he wanted to. His clothes were stained with green as he slid across the muddy grass, shiny, celestial flowers began to grow where he had touched. Placing his hands onto the warm ground, John raised himself up as he finally felt at peace. He was no longer in that...place. Not wanting to think about it, John began to walk faster to get as far away from there as he could. 

From now on, John decided he would call that place "The Empty Field." It rolled nice on his tongue and it fit the name. It was empty apart from the same trees and wildlife over and over again. Sniffling as the memories of the poor turtles rewinded in his head over and over again, it was as if it was on loop. Shaking his head violently, John stopped when he began to feel himself grow dizzy. Standing still, John clenched his fists closed, trying to sustain his anger in a more safe way. Feeling his nails prick his skin, John winced as he saw blood begin to drip down his hand. Not minding at this point, John ignored the blood and continued his journey towards his safe haven. Feeling tears well in his eyes as John began to think for the worse, he paddled on until his feet had grown tired. Not bearing to put himself through anymore cramps through his feet, John collapsed violently to the floor, feeling plants of all kinds grow around his spirit as he just laid there, wishing for some form of comfort. Was this really what his afterlife was going to be? An insufferable eternity of this?


	2. Chapter 2

 

The more John laid on the floor, the more his vision blurred every few moments. Who knew that being dead was so painful and irritating? Keeping down his anger, John raised an eyebrow as he saw some spirits still lingering around the battlefield... did they not know that they could finally leave to where they wanted to? Sighing, John shakily stood up in his feet to go talk to them, maybe he could finally get some sense of accomplishment, then again, any sort of feeling would make John happy. As he slowly made his way towards the soldiers, he took notice of how parched and skinny they had looked. Blood coated one's head as a long gash that ran from his eye all they way down to his neck bled and bled--it showed no sign of stopping any time soon. "Erm... hey..." John mentally hit himself for being so awkward, sometimes, he hated how anxious he could get sometimes. Quickly, John fixed himself so he didn't look like too much of a clutz.

"Why are you two just standing around...? Don't you know that you're dead? I mean, you can practically do whatever the hell you'd like." John exaggerated, shaking himself back and forth on his feet slowly as he waited for any sort of response from the two. One of the soldiers with bleeding, dark eyes that showed bone cackled as he tried to catch his breath, the amount of wheezing that was evident for the poor man made John feel terrible for him.

 

"Kid, we may be dead but that doesn't mean we can't hang around, have a nice cold beer, ya know?" Yup... John knew that feeling all too well. The bleeding eyes from the soldier almost looked like dark pits, the skull could be seen as many torn piece of flesh curved around the open wound onto his skin. Honestly, John didn't know what in the fuck was going on with these dead spirits... was he the only semi-normal one around? As soon as John was going to open his mouth to respond, the other soldier interrupted him quickly with: "The name's Clark, the guy with the bleeding eyes, that's Timothy. We're waiting for our spirit animal to come pick us up.

Then, we can finally leave to the  _good_ afterlife. Not any of this jumble wumble shit just waiting around. Besides, who needs to be so quick with everything, it's not like we're in any sort of rush." Clark declared, picking his fingernails nervously as he continued on waiting for the think they had called their " _spirit_ " animals. John could only hope that his spirit animal was turtle. Man would that be the dream. "Spirit animal? So those are real?! Wow, I can't wait to see mi-" John's eagerness was cut short when Timothy added in, "About that... only the most honorable get those. Considering I've never heard or seen one thing about you, I would think you don't get one." Timothy mumbled rudely, Timothy probably could not even tell how rude he was been towards John. "Sorry to break it to you buddy, but you won't be getting one, not now, not anytime soon. So get rid of the bubble that makes you think you'll get one." Timothy snapped, blinking his bleeding eyes as blood splattered onto his face with every blink and every swift motion with his eyes.

 

John closed his eyes as little drops of blood landed onto his face. Wiping it off with his freckled hands, John couldn't believe the words coming out of Timothy's mouth. Did everybody really think of him like that? Just as some speck of sand that will soon wash away with the sand? He couldn't believe a single word that was popping out of the man's mouth. "That can't be true... I'm Hamilton's best friend, his partner in crime. Surely you have heard of me before, as one of the most bravest soldiers? I challenged Charles Lee to a duel for Heaven's sake!" John shouted, stomping his foot. Alright, maybe the jealousy was beginning to get to him, but John would never openly admit to such a fact.

The freckled man was shocked as he saw the two soldiers nod their head. "Mhm~ That Hamilton wiped you from his history a while ago my friend, ever since the marriage between Eliza and him has gotten more intimate, he has taken no regard to any of you. Even that French one and the Horse loving one, nope!" Timothy laughed, dragging out the nope as he clamped Clark on the shoulder, as if being abandoned by your own friend was something to laugh about.

 

Shaking his head, John continued to ignore the fact. These soldiers seemed too obstinate to know what they were talking about. Maybe they were delusional for waiting so long? How would Timothy and Clark even know Alexander? Did they fight by his side? Growling under his breath, John narrowed his eyes at the two, beginning to grow suspicious of their true intentions. Straightening his posture in a threatining manner, John got into a battle stance, ready to pounce like a lion stalking it's prey. "You tell me how you know Alex if you want to keep your heads." 

 

When the soldiers stayed silent, John felt the anger in him grow even more. Stepping forward, John felt his breathing quicken as he glared at the two. "Tell me!  _Now!_ " He yelled. The freckled man couldn't deal with the silence any longer--it was tormenting, more tormenting than the hard, cold truth. Before John lunged at the two, he heard a small, barely audible snicker coming from Timothy. Gulping, John fixed his stance, looking much more relaxed though. Like a small kitten, John asked quietly: " _What's so funny...?"_ John questioned Timothy, his eyes widening when Timothy's eyes began to gush blood faster.

 

Oh God?! What has he done? Thoughts raced in John's head as he tried to figure out why the dark, almost black blood was endlessly flowing out of the two sockets. "Are you  ** _really_** asking  ** _us_** how we know?" Timothy's anger seemed to grow as he the laughter grew louder and louder as the seconds ticked past. This wasn't good, not at all. "We know everything!" Timothy began to shout, the faint sound of children screaming radiated in the back of the dark voice. Soon, the little screams were replaced with more giggles of dead children, the world seemed to grow dark around him. 

 

Before he knew it, Timothy was lunging at  _him_ not the other way around, yelling in fear, John scrambled to get away but he was too late, the dead man was already on him and not taking any spare moments to give him an extra breath. So this was the- wait, he was already dead, what did he have to worry about? As John's vision began to clear, he saw that the man's bloodied eyes were leaking onto him. Holding in a noise of disgust, John tried to crawl away, but he seemed to be glued to the grass. Smirking up at Timothy, John provoked, "What'cha going to do? Rub a little bit of-" John was cut off as Timothy scratched him hard, fuck did this guy have long nails.

 

Gasping, John felt the all too familiar trickle of blood roll down his face. Closing his eye, John brought his hand up to his eye and clutched it. Pain radiated through his body as he held in his screams, he had to look strong. His breath quivering, John regained the strength to push Timothy off of him. Removing his hand, John saw the hand was soaked with blood. His nails must have done him good, because he never bleeded this bad. Never. He was John Laurens, a Laurens never bleeds or cries. Breathing in a staggered breath, John opened his bleeding eye with much of a struggle, wincing when the eye finally opened, John stared at the man. Finally recollecting that he should run, he began to run. 

 

John ran and ran, refusing to accept that Alex forgot him... they fought together, stayed up with each other each hellish night to comfort one another, and even healed their own wounds... there wasn't any way that Alex had no recognition of him. Frowning, John felt a sudden fire burn through his eyes as he could only imagine Alexander and that damned wife of his. He knew from the very start that Eliza would be trouble, but not this much trouble. It sickened him to the core. If he were still alive, he'd probably have fainted by now.

 

John knew he had no reason to believe the two soldiers, they may just be two knuckleheads looking for trouble. But then again, if there was a possibility that they were just two nutjobs, the possibility of all these harsh words being the truth could have been completely true. He wasn't ready for this kind of hurt, not yet. John refused to let the facts sink in, instead, he'd just have to find out himself, the only way he can. Visit Hamilton and his dearest  _Eliza_ to see the reality. Turning around and beginning to walk away, John ignored the teasing and yelling of the two soldiers as he continued on, having to ignore the painful slurs they threw at him. Not looking back, John walked and walked until the soldiers were only dim specks in the sunlight. 

 

Licking his dried, chapped lips, John continued fighting back tears as he stumbled off, finally residing himself onto a tree stump to relax a bit. Licking some blood that leaked down his lips, John stuck his tongue out at the salty, grimy flavor that now filled his mouth. With the cut across his eye, John felt pain at every single movement, but he was too numb inside to care. Feeling the sudden urge to scratch his eye, John held back and decided to just put pressure on the wound, hoping that would help slow the bleeding down even a tiny bit. 

 

Shakily putting up his hand, John pressed hard onto his eye, biting his lip when the pain began to grow and grow. Blood splattered onto the ground as the cut seemed relentless in stopping. Beginning to pant from the unbearable pain, John tried to stand back up, but he just couldn't find the strength. A simple cut shouldn't be giving him such pain though... what could have possibly made this an exception? 


	3. Chapter 3

OSuAs the blood continued to drip down his face, John accepted his fate. Maybe he'd truly fade away now like a smudge on a canvas. Insignificant and unimportant, a burden, something that is frowned upon. A simple messup. Huffing a deep breath, John did his best to avoid the aching pain in his heart but it was unbearable. He couldn't stand being so helpless, he hated it. Helplessness was the one thing he despised the most. The soldier was always told as a kid, "Never be helpless, it shows weakness and when a Laurens shows weakness, they aren't true"

Clenching his fists weakly, he felt his hands shake with any little feeble movement. He truly was a mess. As John began to close his eyes, he felt a very sudden rush of air form around him. It was almost as if he was on an abandoned beach, all by himself as the sea-breeze curled his hair into the air.

Opening his eyes suddenly, John felt the skin under and above his cut and bleeding eye begin to sink in. This couldn't be alright, he was supposed to fade away, like in the books, what was happening?! Closing his eyes to the same old darkness, John tried to envision what was going on with his one, painfully swollen eye. His freckled skin felt like when you dragged a stick into the grainy sand, vulnerable and moving. When the movement finally stopped, John lifed his hand with great hesitance as he placed his fingers onto the new remarked mark on his eye. If only he could see the color of it, he just hoped it wasn't a too vibrant color.

Snapping his eyes closed to finally rest, he felt the blood flow stop. All that showed evidence of the event ever happening was the dried blood that stained his face and clothes. Getting enough courage to finally stand up, John forced his aching body to pull itself up and get away from this mess. The once red liquid that stained the grass below him began to shrivel up and create new, celestial plants. Some black and darkening whilst some were a glorious, heavenly white color. Scoffing, John began his walk to a new place, a new hope.

Sighing, John walked until it felt like there was no tommorrow. Oddly, it was just quiet, no noises of screams, no gunfire, no breezes running through flags waving in the air, just plain quietness. Maybe there were some others around he could try to chat to? Maybe even talk to--man would that be nice.

At least he would have a friend here, who knows, maybe Lafayette would meet him somewhere and maybe even Hercules! Feeling a tall grin form on his face at the thought of seeing his long time friends, John could only imagine how much more at peace he would feel.

Scratching the back of his ear, John began to speed-walk in desperate hopes to get out of such isolation, he didn't know why but all of a sudden he grew a sudden hatred for the quiet. Of course, he would rather not hear the gunfire and splatters of wet blood hit the floor but John isn't practically fond of the quiet either. His soon doleful attitude began to become even more dull and blank by the minute.

He couldn't stand the endless loop he was stuck in any longer, he'd either have to end it himself and fade away once more or find a way to get out. As John was walking, he quickly ceased his walking when he saw what seemed to be a red cardinal flying around in front of him. Rolling his eyes, John began his walk forwards once more--he was not about to let some damned bird stop him. No matter how much he wanted this to end, he was not about to let some critter as little and worthless as a bird stop him.

' _Yeesh... where all all of these horrid thoughts coming from?'_   John thought to himself. Sniffling, John stepped forward cautiously towards the bird, slowling his walk to go investigate why the bird was flying all around in circles. Not even at a remotely slow pace either, the red feathered animal was flying as quickly as the flapping of it's little wings allowed it to. Biting his bruised lip, John took slow steps forward as he jumped at the bird, clasping it between his bloodied hands as he squeezed the bird as hard as he could.

Hearing the bird's crying chirps made John feel accomplished, _"I'm finally in control, finally, after so long, I-"_ John's thoughts were rudely interrupted as the bird went limp in his grasp, no more pulse nor rising chest, just an emptiness in it's little eyes. Scowling, John opened his hands as the bird fell to the floor, the grass bending as the animal landed onto it. What a damned weakling, it couldn't even last a few minutes, like him, God what a horrible soldier he has become.

Stepping aside so he wouldn't step on the bird, John stiffly walked through the grass that seemed to be getting thicker and thicker. Maybe it was his imagination? Maybe he was finally getting cursed to the depths of hell, who knew, who cared? It wasn't like John had anybody to remember him. Alexander had Eliza, Lafayette was too busy fighting, and Hercules was spying, none of them probably knew of his passing. Then again, who would care? His father certainly wouldn't and he knew damned well he would deny everything.

Throw away his birth certificates, any letters he owned, any item he has touched, hell, he'd probably get rid of his books. John wasn't a Laurens anymore, he didn't die a hero. He died a broken soldier, a lost cause, there were plenty of fish in the sea anyways, why did  _he_ have to be one of the only important ones? A numbing anger filled John's body as his heart began to burn. It burned from the crippling thoughts that he was forced to go through, it really was true, wasn't it? He was just a worthless soldier out of many. 

"Hey, lil' soldier boy." John jumped at the sudden, dark voice, growling at the nickname, John harshly turned around to see who dared to call him such vulgar names. He was no soldier, he wasn't deserving at that title, why couldn't people just understand that already?!

Clenching his fists harshly, John felt the blood flow in his hands slow gradually as he turned to see the perpetrator. Pausing as he quickly unclenched his hands, John felt a surge of suprise when he saw a bloodied cat. Part of it’s ear was missing and his right front paw seemed to be in an odd shape. Scowling, John tried to push down his feelings of sympathy for the poor and troubled animal but he couldn’t help but step forward. 

Maybe this would be his chance to feel some sort of accomplishment in his life. Walking towards the shaking animal, John noticed a dark and black aurora curling itself around the mammal. Like vines capturing a poor being in the forest for eternity. Sort of like him, a trapped and damaged soul. Shaking his wrist nervously in the air whilst he walked, John gulped as he saw the cat stride forward with him. Soon, they were standing right in front of each other... heh, talk about creepy.

”What’s a soldier like you doing here? Shouldn’t ya be going to that magical land you beings call heaven?” The cat suddenly spoke as it hopped in the air, he was suddenly floating and getting himself even closer to John’s face. John almost felt uncomfortable until he realized who was truly the superior being here. He could step on this cat if he could, it was so small and fragile. Who knows? He may be able to just put his hand through the translucent cat and make it fade away like dust. 

“Well, I suppose I was too good for ‘heaven’” John stated with spite, adding finger quotations around the word “heaven.” John really was never truly a religious person. “Ha! Too good for you? Please, all you did was hang around in bars while drinking with men. May I add, carelessly sang a song about a man called Aaron Burr... ya know, the man who practically introduced Eliza to Hamilton.” The cat’s claws were flexed out of it’s black, decaying paw that was bent. How does that even work? John didn’t bother to ask.

”Shut your lit-“ John was swiftly cut off when the cat held up it’s one good paw to signal him to be quiet. “I can bring ya to your precious Hamilton. I can make your dreams come true! I can do anything!” The cat shouted, ignoring John’s comment of: “Narcisstic much?” Blinking, the cat flew up higher and around John’s head so he was directly behind him;momentairly distracting him as John swiftly turned around, almost knocking himself over as he tried to keep up with this damn cat. 

“What if I say no?” John questioned, taking a step back so the smell of decaying, rotten flesh in his face. “Well... then I guess you’ll never see your precious Hamilton again.” The cat rested a paw on their furry face as he continued soon after: “You wouldn’t want to rot here for so long like me? Right? Come on, I know you want to see them. Heh, them being Hamilton’s new kiddo. Stupid kid is going to end up getting shot one day considering how naive he is.” Pausing, the spirit gasped as they twirled around in the air. “How impolite of me! My name is Correlius! Nice to meet ya!” Correlius stuck his mangled paw out for shaking, but John just backed up even more.

The shock of Hamilton having a kid was dawning upon John more quickly than a demon cat being straight in his face. No, this couldn’t be true... Hamilton had a kid? Without him kno- John bit his tongue as he briskly thought about what he would decide. Maybe he could teach Hamilton’s kid about death and make him more accustomed to it, make him hate Hamilton for betraying him, how dare such a vulgar man do something so terrible to him? As well as all women Hamilton could get, he chooses that bitch Eliza Schuyler?

Alright, maybe he was getting a bit ahead of himself, but this pain was beyond all John could ever feel. Taking a deep breath, John lifted his hand out and quickly shook Correlius’s paw. “I’ll do it, I’ll see Hamilton’s son and I swear to God Hamilton will pay for his sins.” 

Smirking, Correlius closed his eyes as blue fire began to surround the two and the whole sad and dark world became an awful lot darker.


End file.
